Chapter 5

Mason

The morning felt off. Nothing in particular had happened, yet the new day felt so old. I ignored it, pushed it down as much as possible, and focused on my morning routines.

I started with my usual workout—push-ups, sit-ups, a run on the treadmill. Focusing all my thoughts and worries on the feel of my feet against the machine should have helped clear my mind, but it didn’t. It only made me more aware of how unsettled I felt.

By the time I finished, I was drowned in sweat as my shirt clung to my skin. I stepped into the shower, letting the water wash over me.

Even a bath couldn't soothe the ache and heaviness. I stood there longer than usual, staring at the tiles as my mind continued to run in circles.

I didn’t need to think about her. I didn’t need to think about the divorce papers I was supposed to prepare. Yet, no matter how much I tried to shove it aside, Lydia’s face crept into my thoughts.

I exhaled sharply, shutting off the water. Enough.

Stepping out, I grabbed a towel and dried off. Then I moved to my closet. As I buttoned my shirt, a soft knock came at my door. I already knew who it was before she even spoke.

My mother.

She let herself in without waiting for my answer. Dressed in an elegant cream-coloured blouse and black pants, she moved with the same composed grace she always did.

For a woman that had just lost her husband, she was surely holding it together, even though my stepfather had always been a dick.

I didn't bother facing her as I entered the closet and searched for my cufflinks. “You’re up early,” she said lightly, stepping further in.

I finished buttoning my cuff. “I always am.”

She hummed, walking toward the window. “It’s a good habit.” Her tone was casual, but I knew better. She never came to my room just to chat, especially not with all the tension around.

I pulled on my jacket, waiting for it.

“Have you made all the preparations?” she asked finally, her voice losing the lightness it held a second ago. I didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “For what?”

She turned and kept her heavy gaze on me. “For the divorce, Mason.” I exhaled through my nose, adjusting my tie. “It’s being handled.”

“Good,” she said, sounding quite relieved. Mother never accepted Lydia, so it's no surprise. She crossed her arms, tilting her head. “When are you going to see her?” That question was one I was hoping she wouldn't ask.

“I haven’t decided yet,” I admitted.

“Well, let me know when you do,” she said, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I’ll come with you.” I stilled, my fingers pausing over the knot of my tie. “That’s unnecessary.”

“She needs to understand,” my mother said, voice hardening. “She needs to see that there’s no place for her in this family anymore. That she never belonged in the first place and then sign the damn papers.”

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay composed. “I’ll handle it,” I replied. For a while, she stayed silent, and I prayed she'd just go away, but instead, she came closer. “Mason—”

My ringtone cut her off, saving me just in time. I didn’t hesitate to grab it from my nightstand. I picked up my phone to my view and saw it was my assistant calling.

“I have to take this,” I said, already answering the call. My mother narrowed her eyes slightly but didn’t push. Instead, she turned and walked toward the door, pausing only for a second. “Don’t let this drag on. Get it done.” Then she left.

I inhaled deeply, pressing the phone to my ear. “Talk.”

“Good morning, sir,” my assistant greeted. “Your first meeting is at ten. I’ve sent you the updated reports from last night. Also, the contract for the new deal came in.”

I rubbed my temple. “Anything urgent?”

“No, but Mr. Rossi requested a private meeting. He wouldn’t say what it was about, only that it was important.” I frowned. “Set it up for this afternoon.”

“Understood. And about the divorce papers—” I exhaled, dragging a hand through my hair. “Are they ready?.”

“Yes, sir. Would you like me to deliver them?”

“No. I’ll do it myself.” A pause. Then, “Understood.”

I ended the call, tucking my phone into my pocket. I knew I should have felt relieved that everything was moving forward. Soon, this chapter would be closed.

But instead, all I felt was that same unease, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake it. Even after everything, I did love her, but she betrayed me.

.

.

The afternoon couldn’t come any faster.

The meeting with Mr. Rossi was dragging. I could hear every word being said, but none of it stuck. Numbers. Figures. Expansion plans. It was all just noise in the background.

I sat at the head of the long glass table; my hands clasped together as my finance team presented their reports. The room was filled with department heads, each taking turns discussing projections and market trends.

I should have been paying attention. Instead, my mind was elsewhere.

"...we estimate a 12% increase in revenue by the next quarter, assuming the expansion deal with the South American suppliers goes through."

I barely heard a word of it.

Lydia.

The name kept forcing its way into my thoughts.

"...the budget allocation for the new development project will be adjusted accordingly..."

I clenched my jaw, trying to focus. This was my business. My company. This mattered.

But no matter how much I tried to stay in the moment, my thoughts kept drifting back to her. To what was waiting for me after this meeting.

"Mr. Mason?"

I blinked, bringing my attention back to the room. My finance director, a sharp-dressed man in his forties, was looking at me expectantly.

I leaned back in my chair. "Repeat that."

He hesitated for a second before clearing his throat. "I was saying, with the current negotiations underway, we need your approval on the final contract terms before moving forward."

"Send the details to my assistant," I said, not bothering to ask him to explain again. "I'll review it later."

He nodded, but I could tell he wasn’t satisfied with my reply. Still, I didn’t care.

The rest of the meeting continued, but I barely contributed. By the time it finally ended, I stood without a word and walked out, heading straight to my office.

The moment I stepped inside, I let out a slow breath, rubbing a hand over my face. What's wrong with me? I could feel my brain spiraling into depression at this point.

No matter how much I ignored that tiny feeling, I couldn't deny that Zoe's words from last night bothered me. I felt... guilty. For what exactly? This divorce should be easy. She betrayed me. She ruined everything about our marriage because of her infidelity. There was nothing to think about.

I moved to my desk, about to sit, when a knock came at the door. "Come in."

My assistant entered, holding a neat stack of papers. He walked over and placed them on my desk. "The documents you requested, sir."

I didn’t have to ask what they were. I already knew.

The divorce papers.

I stared at them for a while as though they were the devil's poison. My assistant adjusted his tie. "Would you like me to—"

"Leave them," I said. He gave a small nod and stepped back, waiting.

I reached forward, flipping through the pages. My name was already typed neatly on the signature line. All I had to do was sign.

Just a signature. That was it.

I picked up my pen but didn’t move. My grip tightened around it as I stared at the paper in front of me.

Two years.

I spent two years with her, thinking I knew the woman I married. Then everything fell apart.

The memory hit me like a punch to the gut. Lydia. Standing in the middle of that room. Her hands wrapped around the gun.

The gun she used to kill my stepfather.

I had walked in seconds after it happened. The smell of gunpowder was still in the air. His body was on the ground, in a pool of his blood. And Lydia, frozen in place.

I could still see it. The way her fingers trembled. The way her lips parted as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t.

I had loved her and trusted her. And she had done this.

Slept with my stepfather. Then murdered him. I felt anger, betrayal, and jealousy burn at my throat as I pressed the pen to the paper. One signature. Then another. I flipped to the last page, signed it, and shoved the papers toward Daniel, my assistant.

"Prepare the car," I said, my voice cold. "We're going to the prison." Daniel nodded almost immediately. "Yes, sir."

He picked up the signed papers and left.

I leaned back in my chair, exhaling slowly.

It was done.

I was going to see my ex-wife. And for the last time.